Pink and Red
by Kaz1167
Summary: Haruka has never been particularly fond of Valentine's Day. In fact, it would be more accurate to say he rather disliked the frivolous holiday for a variety of reasons. But the overriding reason that drove Haru to loathe Valentine's Day was his classmates' obsession with a certain brunet boy with kind, green eyes.


This was written for the wonderful Makoharu Festival being hosted on Tumblr. I can't post a link here, but the username is makoharufestival. The fics with the most notes at the end of the festival will receive a prize, so, if you enjoyed my story, I would love it you would like or reblog it on Tumblr (my Free! tumblr account is ishouldbeanimated). Please check out the other entries for the Makoharu Festival as well! :)

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Haruka has never been particularly fond of Valentine's Day. In fact, it would be more accurate to say he rather disliked the frivolous holiday.

First, he hated all the pink and red. Only Nagisa could make pink look slightly better than awful and he supposed Rin's ruby-colored hair and eyes were alright; otherwise, he detested the garish colors and the way everything—from their classroom to their supermarket—looked like someone with a love obsession had thrown up on Iwatobi. The excessive pink and red hearts, Cupids, and other silly shapes only obstructed the calming neutrals and blue-green tones of their little town.

Second, he didn't buy into the idea of Valentine's Day. He didn't think over-the-top acts of affection should be necessary to show someone how much you cared. Haru believed that people should just be able to_ know _you cared based on how you treated them every day; one day in a year shouldn't be set aside to show someone you loved them.

But the overriding reason that drove Haru to _loathe_ Valentine's Day was his classmates' obsession with a certain brunet boy with kind, green eyes. Every year—on that one, horrible day—too many of the girls in their class (and sometimes a grade or two above or below them) felt emboldened enough to confess something to Makoto: "_I think you're cute!_" or "_You're the sweetest, Mako-chan!_" or, worse, "_I've been in love with you since middle school!_"

It was awful.

Despite his hatred of showy confessions, he knows the nagging voice in his head—the one that tells him that maybe this day wouldn't be as much of a problem if_ he_ just confessed to Makoto—is right. Sure, he had figured out that he loved Makoto a long time ago, but exactly how to handle that knowledge was an issue that remained unresolved.

So when Valentine's Day finally arrives during their second year of high school, Haruka rolls out of bed, drags himself to the tub, and seriously debates skipping school. Maybe the day will be better if he doesn't have to witness the actual events. If he doesn't have to watch as Makoto shyly turns down each confession, if he doesn't see all those girls clamoring for Makoto's attention, maybe the day will be less annoying. Of course that idea flies out the door, though, when Makoto slowly pulls back the screen to his bathroom, greets him with a warm smile, and extends his hand out to Haru.

The walk to school is fine, the first class is fine, but _then_ some girl slides a chocolate with a little love note onto Makoto's desk when he asks to use the bathroom and Haru has to restrain himself from reaching over and slapping the offending gift off his best friend's desk. During the break between their second and third classes, another girl pulls him to side, whispers something with a blush on her face, and shoves her heart-shaped chocolate into Makoto's hands.

Lunch is horrific—Nagisa counts seven girls _literally_ waiting in a line to speak with Makoto. Haru's fairly certain Makoto doesn't even get a chance to eat his food, too polite to dismiss any of the adoring girls that keep stealing his time. With three girls left in line, Haru packs up his nearly untouched lunch and leaves the roof, unable to continue watching. He hears Nagisa call out to him, a questioning note in his voice, and briefly catches Makoto's conflicted green gaze before he practically slams the roof door behind him, an unpleasant feeling he's reluctant to accept as insecurity mixed with the tiniest bit of jealousy clutching at his chest.

By the time swim practice rolls around, Makoto has thirteen chocolates in all, has listened to thirteen confessions, and has gently rejected thirteen girls. When one more comes to pull Makoto to the side during practice—Gou steams at the interruption of their already limited indoor practice time, Makoto shyly rubs the back of his neck in resignation—Haru practically throws himself in the pool, desperately needing the escape.

But, much to Haru's chagrin, aggressively pushing himself through the blue or just letting himself gently drift to the bottom does nothing to relieve him of his frustration. _Why did he have to fall in love with Makoto?_ Why did he have to love someone so good, so sweet, so wonderfully amazing, that everyone else fell for him too? Even though he hates how sweet Makoto is to his multitude of confessors, even though he wishes Makoto would just quickly dismiss them, he knows this is what makes him Makoto, is part of what made him fall in love with Makoto in the first place.

Despite feeling just as frustrated as before, Haru continues swimming long after practice has ended, hoping that any lingering pursuers have given up for the day. He notices when Nagisa and Rei leave, notices when Makoto stops swimming, but the pair of green-lined, jammer-covered legs dangling in the pool finally captures his attention. He slowly emerges from the watery depths, swims over to Makoto, and throws his arms over the edge of the pool, letting the rest of his body float.

"Haru, is something wrong? You've been on edge all day…" Haru takes in the tired expression on Makoto's face, his normally vibrant green eyes duller than usual, and a little bit of guilt slowly soaks into him. As frustrating as this day was for him, he knows that putting on a kind smile, softly turning down each girl, and watching the disappointment or flicker of sadness in each girl's eyes that he had caused is exhausting for Makoto. With that reminder, the remaining frustration of the day ebbs away, replaced by a need to make Makoto's eyes shine brightly again, to make him smile in that way that makes Haru want to blush.

"I don't like Valentine's Day." He turns his head away from Makoto, watching from the corner of his eye as Makoto's eyes brighten ever so slightly and a little smile breaks his sad expression.

"Why is that, Haru-chan?" Haru rolls his eyes, but lets it slide (he'd let Makoto call him that annoying nickname a thousand times over if it would make him smile) and decides to share his least incriminating reason for hating the holiday so much.

"The colors are obnoxious."

Makoto's expression shifts instantaneously at the dead-panned words, his face slipping into an expression Haru has deemed his "I'm trying not to laugh at what you just said, but you are a little ridiculous sometimes" face. It's particularly different than the one he gives Nagisa in response to all of the crazy things their blond friend suggests; this one is sweet and gentle, like he's mildly entertained by whatever goes through Haru's head and still finds Haru's weirder moments endearing. It another one of those little things about Makoto he's come to love.

"The colors?"

"Yes. They're annoying to look at all day." That comment gets a genuine smile from Makoto and Haru finally feels happy and relaxed for the first time that day.

"Okay, let me guess, you'd prefer everything be blue?"

"Yes," Haru starts, but a rush of feelings push him to say something emotional and he finds himself taking this sentence in an entirely different direction than he intended, "and green…Like Makoto's eyes."

He won't look at Makoto, but he can feel his eyes on him as he takes in his compliment. Makoto's quiet for a moment more, slowly moving his legs back and forth in the pool, sending little ripples of water against Haru's skin.

"I think I'd like Valentine's Day more, too, if everything was the color of Haru's eyes." Haru can feel his face heating up, knows it must be taking on a pinkish tone, so he dips himself in the pool once, before reemerging and hesitantly glancing at Makoto's face, noting the light pink dusting on his own cheeks.

"You don't like Valentine's Day?" Haru knows it's a silly question to ask based on Makoto's earlier expression, but he asks it anyways.

"It's…tiring," Makoto sighs, leaning back on his arms, and Haru can't help the quick dart of his gaze to Makoto's chest and stomach, watching the muscles flex as he moves, before looking back into the pool. His face must be bright pink at this point. Great.

"I heard fourteen different confessions today. Of course it's flattering and everyone's so sweet to think so highly of me, but," he stumbles, swallows quickly before continuing, "every time someone would start, the only person I could think of was you."

Haru swears his heart stops. Makoto pushes himself forward, sliding back into the pool, and Haru allows himself to sink fully into the water as well. He meets Makoto's hesitant, questioning gaze then, knowing full well his face must be the color of those disgusting decorations at this point.

"I love you, Haruka."

Haru's never been good with words and he thinks Makoto can read the expression in his eyes anyways, but he doesn't hesitate to speak now.

"I love you too."

Makoto's eyes completely light up and he smiles that beaming, warm smile—the kind Haru has been aching to see all day—and Haru feels his own grin spreading across his face. Makoto's hand moves to trail across Haru's cheek before slowly settling on the back of his neck.

"Can I-"

Haru nods and meets Makoto's lips half-way. Makoto's lips are warm and soft against his, the feather-light pressure sending a tingling sensation throughout his body. It's short, sweet, and so very much like Makoto. When they pull apart, Makoto's smiling brighter than Haru's ever seen him smile before, and he doesn't hesitate to pull Haru into a tight embrace.

Makoto kisses him again after that, practically radiating energy from _that smile_, before getting out of the pool and extending his hand to Haru. For some reason, taking Makoto's hand feels different now, but a _wonderful_ kind of different, and as they head to the locker room, Makoto slips his fingers in between Haru's and gently squeezes. Haru squeezes back and can feel his face heating up once more. He catches his reflection in the locker room mirror and curses the bright, strawberry-red color filtering down his cheeks and neck.

"You know, Haru, for someone who hates pink and red so much, they really look cute on you."

"Shut up, Makoto." He drops Makoto's hand at that, huffs quietly as he tries to pack his stuff quickly and internally curses falling in love with his best friend. Makoto cutely sputters, jokingly apologizing, before tugging lightly on Haru's arm and placing another kiss on his cheek.

He still hates pink and red, still thinks Valentine's Day is a pointless holiday, and still doesn't want to watch his classmates swoon over Makoto. But, as he walks back to his house hand-in-hand with Makoto, he admits that _this_ Valentine's Day wasn't too bad after all.


End file.
